His gaze locked on a collection of swirling dark clouds and the man who hid behind them.
The chanting rose again to fill Aryn’s head and Irian’s presence rose with it.
“We’ll kill him,” Irian said, the thirst for blood so hot and thick, Aryn could all but taste the hot, rich iron.
But Tyriel blocked him, just a few feet before Aryn could have run the bastard through with his sword.
“This one is mine, enchanter.” She stared at Aryn and he knew she meant those words for both him and Irian. “Guard my back.”
The scrape of a booted foot over the floor had Aryn turning, blade up to catch the downward stroke of a guard’s sword. Metal clanged against metal.
Magic flooded the room.
One of the guards pulled something from his belt, opened it and tossed what looked like sand at Aryn—it scattered, the air going dense and black.
But then the spell touched Aryn’s sword and the blade all but drank the hex up, swallowing the darkness into itself until it no longer existed.
“I don’t think that worked,” Aryn said with a taunting smile as the guard stared in stunned disbelief.
The other guard rushed him, one hand drawn back, a sickly yellow orange glow swirling in his palm.
Mist rose up from the ground, separating them, completely wrapping around Aryn’s would-be attacker for a span of heartbeats.
When it fell, the man was on his knees, hands at his throat as his tails tore bloody gouges into his skin. He choked and gasped for air.
In seconds, he fell over.
Tyriel knew her two companions had everything under control, so she smiled as she closed on the dark enchanter. He stank of blood power, dark sorcery and evil and as she came closer, he sneered at her, flinging one hand in her direction.
She batted the magic aside with a laugh.
“Mecaro, you sick monster.” Be still. His eyes widened as the command locked him into place. “Esiyencio, before I cut your tongue out myself.”
Stalking closer, she pulled a blade from her belt. She released the fire she’d called to her, letting it returned to the hearth and candles and lamps, lighting the room and the beautiful destruction the three of them had wrought in just moments.
The loveliest thing of all, though, was the flicker of fear in the eyes of the man she now knew to be one of the wandering priests who visited this town, a revered one who had been given the trust of nearly everybody in town, invited to spend a night in many a home, share a meal.
And he repaid that kindness by stealing the town’s sons and daughters.
Pressing the tip of her blade to his chin, she murmured, “Now…what am I going to do with you?”
“Mind, I wasn’t asking you,” she said, giving him a sweet smile when he went to speak. “I’m just thinking out loud. Not that you could answer anyway…I think the elf caught your tongue.”
Rage burned in his eyes and he fought to take control of his mouth.
Curious, she eased her hold.
He snarled something in a language she didn’t know. A wind whipped through the temple, blowing his hood back and revealing a pale face and long hair of a deep dark red, almost skin to a ruby.
He spat at her feet and hissed something else.
The wind sharpened and Tyriel felt its punch, then incredibly, a sharp, thin pain sliced her cheek.
“Is that the best you can do?” she asked, touching the bloody spot with the back of her hand. “How boring. And since you didn’t do anything interesting with those few seconds…I won’t waste any more on you. Ceano mora fovan.”
As Jaren had done, the man went stock-still, frozen in place a second time as Tyriel paced a long, slow circle around him.
“Now, what to do with you? Death is too good for you, but it’s the most sensible solution. Perhaps we could let the—”
Something knocked her down, unseen, unfelt, but there all the same. A black, stinking evil filled the room, and Tyriel’s eyes narrowed as she climbed to her feet. Drawing in a careful breath, she tested the air. Then with a disgusted mutter, she looked at the human once more.
“Bad, bad little human…calling up a demon, don’t you know what they can do to you if they don’t catch their prey? You become the prey.” Turning, she tried to track the new creature that had let itself into the chamber.